A Second, A Minute, An Hour
by LittleBouquetOfMerthur
Summary: Continuation of a scene from S2E3; what happens when Arthur thinks Merlin likes Morgana? Is Arthur actually getting fat from wine? And will Merlin be able to heal him in time before his soul gets dissolved? Warnings: extreme sap, BoyxBoy. Will be Merthur, lemon planned in ch2


A/N: The first part of this chapter uses dialogue from a scene near the end of Season 2 Episode 3, "The Nightmare Begins". I do not own Merlin, its plot, dialogue, nor its characters.

* * *

"This has to stop."

Arthur's voice issued from the shadows, lean bulk lurking against the wall.

Merlin whipped around in surprise, narrow features schooling themselves into a mask of curiosity to cover the shock. He watched warily as the other approached.

"The king would have your head if he found out. There's no point denying it."

_Oh shit…_

"Denying what?" Merlin floundered, resisting the urge to look somewhere, anywhere but at Arthur's brilliant blue eyes.

His breath caught as Arthur looked him up and down, only to strangle back the burst of laughter threatening to spill from his lips upon the statement, "Your affections for the Lady Morgana."

It was too much. Merlin lost the battle and the chortle slipped out, lips curling up at the edges in pained amusement at the irony.

"Right…" Rolling his eyes at the blonde, he went to walk off and fetch the prat's dinner from the kitchens. _If only you knew._

Arthur started after him in indignation at being given the slip. "Take some advice from someone who… _knows_ about women." The heavy hand came down on the young sorcerer's slim shoulder, Merlin still smirking at the serious note in his prince's eyes.

"If such a person existed I would!" came the sassy reply, smirk spreading to cheeky grin as Merlin luxuriated in the heat radiating from the palm gripping him.

A snort came in reply, blue eyes rolling at the jab. "Stick to _girls_ who're, how can I put it…on your level."

Merlin's face fell slack in shock. That…hurt more than he cared to admit, even to himself. No, not the whole "girls" thing, the insinuation that Merlin couldn't snag someone as beautiful or well-born as Morgana. He didn't, of course, like her in the way Arthur was implying. It was more the comparison between the lady and Arthur himself that Merlin couldn't, and shouldn't, even think of going there. He was beneath them, not only by rights of birth but physically, too. _Even if he did like men, why want skinny, pale me when there's guys like Lance prancing around._

"Well, thanks…" Merlin cleared his throat, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible to escape the bane of and reason for his sorry existence.

"She can't be your friend. Let alone anything else."

Did Arthur look…sad? There was definitely a pained expression on his face. Pity, most likely, that his poor sod of a manservant managed to get himself in such an awkward situation. Annoyance that he had to confront the idiot about something so obvious. And sorrow, too. Though the possible reasons for that, Merlin couldn't name.

"Yeah I know…" Gods but this was awkward. An odd little half grimace crossed his face, Merlin tensing his muscles under the blessed heat still emanating from the contact. _Just let me leave_, he begged. _I don't like her, not like that…It's you. Always you. But what would you say if you knew._

A brusque nod came, and a clap on his now overheated shoulder. "You can't hide anything from me," Arthur stated with a rueful grin, wagging a finger. Merlin watched as the blonde prince smiled and strutted off, relieved that the horrid confrontation was over, but pained on so many levels. _There's no need to reinforce that you're untouchable, clotpole…_

"Wouldn't dream of it!" he called after Arthur's retreating back, the grin plastered on his face slowly sliding off as the pain took over and Merlin's poor, sweet, battered heart tore just that little bit further.

* * *

_xXx_

* * *

Arthur's stomach clenched into a tight ball, making walking away from his servant even harder than usual. He knew, of course he did. He'd seen it happening for months. The puppy dog eyes following, always watching, the moony expression that'd come over the boy's pale, angular face. He hated it.

_It's because she deserves better_, he told himself, ignoring the truth of his jealousy that reared its ugly green head at every reminder. _Because he's just some lowly servant, and she's _the _Morgana le Faye._ Yet try as he might, it was Morgana he was jealous of, Morgana he struggled to stifle his hate for as Merlin made those annoying and ridiculous and fucking _gorgeous_ faces pining after her. And there was his proof. Not two days ago he'd caught him taking flowers to his father's ward's chambers. And just now, sneaking out of her rooms at 10 at night, rendering him honour-bound to warn the clueless raven about Uther's protective wrath.

The blonde slammed through the wooden door and into his apartments, fire jumping merrily as the heavy scowl settled on the young Pendragon's face like a thick blanket.

Arthur couldn't pretend to not have seen Merlin wince and recoil from the physical toll his words had had. He'd probably just broken the poor fool's heart. Well…it wasn't his fault. Idiot shouldn't be drooling after his…whatever she was to him.

Huffing as he flopped down into his chair, Arthur groaned at the waiting paperwork, making a mental note to pawn it off to one of his knights tomorrow. The prince poured himself a goblet of wine, eyes closed tiredly as the bittersweet liquid calmed and soothed.

"You know, drinking all that wine's going to make you fat, _sire_."

Spluttering graciously and elegantly spewing wine back into his cup, Arthur started at the taunting voice right next to his ear.

"_Mer_lin, seriously. Me? _Fat?_ Have you seen me lately?"

Cheeky blue eyes twinkled as the raven appraised his master. In a conspirational whisper, Merlin said, "That's my point sire, I have!" and tried not to giggle as the humour headily eased his inner turmoil somewhat.

A sophisticated snort issued from Arthur's royal nostrils. "Merlin, I am _not_ fat."

"Mmhm. Yessir. Sure thing."

Arthur tried to cover his wince – uh, noble twitch of the eye – at Merlin's jesting but harsh words. In a vain attempt to save face, Arthur brushed him off and commanded the boy to undress him and prepare him for bed, pushing the insecurities away as he tried not to cringe from fingers skirting over his stomach and chest and limbs. What was usually the highlight of his evening crumbled to ashes in his mind, Arthur's guilty pleasure of Merlin stripping him soiled by this unusual lack of self-confidence.

* * *

_xXx_

* * *

_What was that?_

Merlin had just been cracking a joke to try and relieve the tension he'd internalised, and Arthur had totally freaked on him. And during what was, if he was being brutally honest, his favourite "chore", he'd felt the blonde's admittedly well defined and definitely drool-worthy muscles tense and shirk from his touch.

Not for the first time that night, Merlin felt awkward. "I was just teasing…" he murmured, helping Arthur shrug into his bed robe before the late dinner set out for him. He left his hands on the prince's shoulders, turning the others body gently and cocking his head inquisitively. "You okay?"

Arthur grunted in reply, truthfully in confusion by Merlin's confession, but interpreted by the raven as one of the usual dismissive sneers.

"Prat…" came the mumbled under breath grumble, ignoring the irritated look shot his way. Merlin set about cosying up the airy rooms, stoking fires and fluffing pillows whilst His Lordly Princeship wined and dined…with a sudden suspicious lack of the former.

Merlin smirked in triumph. _Ha! Serves you right, stupid git._

"What _are_ you grinning at?"

The cheeky grin disappeared behind a woeful mask of feigned innocence. "Nothing, sire!"

"Hm."

Silence ensued, the clatter of cutlery and crockery ceasing as Arthur yawned and staggered over to his bed, rubbing at his chest in discomfort.

"I want my armour polished, horses fed, stables mucked, tunics cleaned, that boot fixed and my sword sharpened by morning, Merlin. Run along now."

Merlin glanced up at his friend rattling off a somewhat extended version of his nightly chores. Rolling his eyes and resigning himself to his sleepless fate, the boy started to lug the basket away and out the door.

"Merlin?"

He paused and peered back over his shoulder, wistfully aroused at the sight of a near naked prince sprawled out on the four poster bed, yet concerned at the open vulnerability on the blonde's face. "Mm?"

"…I'm not really fat, am I?" Arthur mumbled quietly, self-conscious and hating his dependency on Merlin's opinion.

The raven smiled gently, indulgently. "Not at all. Quite something to behold, actually." And with that and the confused relief on his prince's face, Merlin skulked out and into the corridor.

'_Quite something to behold'?! What the fuck?! Where did that come from?_

Merlin pressed his back against the wall, breathing heavily. How could he be so stupid? He saw Arthur nearly, if not completely, naked all the time. Why did he have to say something?

_It was that look on his face…so fragile. Maybe even he needs coddling and protecting every now and then…_

With a sigh he knew it was true, but also knew he was not the person intended to pamper and coddle and lavish love and attention on the sweetly vulnerable prince. As much as he wanted to be, as much as he felt he needed to be, it couldn't ever be so.

* * *

_xXx_

* * *

_Quite something to behold? Well now Merlin, if only you actually meant that…_

Arthur cursed and threw a muscular forearm over his crinkled brow. How could he show weakness like that? "_I'm not really fat, am I?" _Where did that come from? Since when did he care, anyway? So what if his armour made him look a little pudgy, when it all came off, he was ripped, right?

"_Quite something to behold, actually."_ Arthur snorted. Yeah, right. And of course Merlin had been the one there in his moment of weakness, comforting him with that beautiful smile that had a cathartic effect on his heartstrings. And of course Merlin would be the one to say such a sweet thing, even if he had either no idea what he was saying, or was parroting servant gossip to make him feel better. Sweet, simple, selfless Merlin…

Images of his friend flashed through Arthur's mind. Delicate pale silhouettes crowned by jet black hair and circled by that scarf he always insisted on wearing. Peeps of razor sharp collarbones as the material covering it shifted, allowing the porcelain skin to be seen. Beautiful full lips mouthing endless retorts, sassing him as none had dared before, weaving a tighter net around the prince's heart. And those eyes. Sweet heavens above those eyes. Pure, cerulean blue with gentle flecks of gold peppering an intense, kind and intelligent gaze, rendering the viewer breathless from the compassion and selflessness emanating from it.

Upon that final image, held steady in his mind, Prince Arthur of Camelot slipped into a deep sleep, beautiful eyes watching over him through his dreams, before the gold disappeared and was replaced with hateful, ice coloured orbs, irises glittering an obsidian, menacing black, a shard of pain shredding open the blonde's chest.

* * *

_xXx_

* * *

Arthur wasn't waking up.

Obviously, Merlin started to panic.

Grabbing the nearest servant swarming the corridor halls in the late morning rush, he sent the young page running for Gaius, swiftness aided by the weight of the Crown Prince's life resting on whether he got there in time or not.

Merlin's hands fluttered about Arthur's slack face, busying himself with a cool damp washcloth as he dabbed at the blonde's brow. With a quick glance around to confirm the pair were alone, the fretting boy muttered a scanning spell, looking for possible causes of the prince's present state of consciousness and fever.

Glowing softly gold under the purity of Merlin's magic and intent, Arthur's body softened from its rigid position. Just there, right over where the heart should be, the gold casing glowed a soft red.

With footsteps now echoing loudly in the hallway, the sorcerer had just enough time to abolish the spell and freshen his washcloth before the king entered, accompanied by an entourage of Gaius, Morgana and a handful of knights.

"What's happened? How is he? Who did this to him?" Uther boomed, rapid stream of questions belying his worry about his only son.

"Sire, please, let me examine him." Gaius stepped forward, gently nudging Merlin and Uther aside from the crowded confines surrounding Arthur's bed.

"Of course, of course…find me when you know what's wrong. The rest of you, come. Give them space." The king commanded, cloak swirling as he left the room, knights and lady following their sovereign.

Locking the door behind the exiting noblemen, Merlin turned to Gaius. "It's something to do with his heart, and while it's not magical, it's not 'natural'."

The old man gave a grunt, eyebrow raised in appraisal of the information. "Close the drapes and show me, Merlin."

Doing as he was bid, spell uttered and room protected from onlookers, Arthur's body once more lit up in a golden glow. Frowning at the specimen in front of him, Gaius quickly perused the red site, checked under Arthur's eyelids and his pulse, and nodded decisively.

"Hm. I see…Merlin, were you with Arthur last night?"

The boy nodded affirmative.

"Were you the last person he saw before sleeping?"

Again, the boy nodded.

"Arthur's been poisoned, Merlin. And you're right about not natural or magical – it's both. Did he drink any wine last night?"

"Uhh, some? He stopped after I teased him…"

Gaius nodded, and sniffed at the goblet still on the oaken desk covered with paperwork. "I think you saved his life," his mentor stated gruffly. "Very rare poison… An enchanted herb from lands far away, it targets the person's very essence. Any more and he'd be dead, not burning up in a fever coma. Not that I'm encouraging you, Merlin, but he'll come out of it in a day or two with a little magic healing. Just keep cooling him with that cloth and we'll tell Uther it's just a fever… He'll just find more sorcerer's to hunt down and blame, otherwise."

Merlin's face lit up, scrambling over to his master's bedside to do what he could. Gaius already forgotten as the man left in search of the king, Merlin took a calming breath and took hold of Arthur's hand, with his other hand placed palm down on the site of damage. Calling upon the magic within him, Merlin's eyes flared gold as the aether responded, a strand partially sewing up the ragged wound to Arthur's spirit.

Entirely sapped of strength, Merlin slumped forward and passed out, forehead resting gently on Arthur's abdomen.

* * *

_xXx_

* * *

Such a strange sensation…A second, a minute, an hour, however long the time runs in that in between state, there was a burning in his chest, just a pinprick as his dreaming self gazed back into the conjured image of Merlin's eyes. The next second, minute, hour, whichever, the pain burned away, eating away at what felt like his very soul. And then, the beautiful gold and blue eyes that gave comfort and soothed his mind-numbing pain gave way to the terrible, evil and predatory stare of a menacing phantom.

Arthur tried to flex his muscles in an attempt to ease his excruciating pain, however succeeded only in his body locking up before his soul near completely detached, anchored only around the rims of the ever expanding hole in his spirit's chest.

And then, blissful relief as part of that spirit was stitched back to its host body, light hearted happiness that distinctly reminded Arthur's spirit of Merlin. Sweet Merlin, caring Merlin. Thoughts of his raven haired servant formed a spiritual anchor, allowing his precariously balanced soul to grip onto the golden thread and weave it tighter, enhancing the pure Merlin-ness of it all with his own feelings for the boy.

Detached from his body though he was, there was a tingling on the place where his stomach should have been, the fleeting vision of Merlin asleep, resting his head there strengthening Arthur with sweet happiness. Clinging to the vision like a lifeline, Arthur found he was able to prevent the tearing of his soul. Not aid in its repair, just prevent further damage, all the while thoughts of his goofy, compassionate, kind and idiotic servant floated through his whole being.

* * *

_xXx_

* * *

Merlin woke to find himself on the floor of Arthur's chambers, head propped up by a pillow. Groaning at the laborious task of opening his gritty eyes, he knuckled at his face, clearing the fuzziness from his brain. He noticed a soft voice singing somewhere to his left, and turned, frowning, toward the source, eyes narrowing in annoyance once they lit upon the perpetrator.

Kneeling next to Arthur's gorgeous, yet comatose, silhouette, Gwen was singing and gazing in adoration at _his_ Arthur, dabbing _his_ Arthur's brow with _his_ washcloth. Oblivious to the world around her, the maid continued in her ministrations, not feeling the murderous gaze aimed at every part of her in contact with the prince.

Merlin leapt to his feet, walking over and standing beside _his_ chair. He forced his face into a friendly, totally _non-jealous_ façade. "Ahem."

"Oh! Merlin I'm so sorry, I didn't realise you were awake." Gwen smiled up at him, innocent as ever.

"Haha, oh don't worry, I must've been pretty tired. Thanks for taking care of him for me. I'll, uhm, take over now, if you don't mind…"

"Oh Merlin no it's okay, you should go grab something to eat and maybe go visit Gaius and see what he's up to and… Merlin? Are you okay?" The girl looked befuddled as Merlin practically snatched the cloth from her fingers.

"Sorry," he muttered gruffly. "I just…I feel like it's my fault, so I'm responsible for him getting better too. I need to make sure he's okay. Hope you don't mind…" Merlin felt guilty. Somewhere, behind the jealous haze fuzzing out any sense of social grace and politeness, he knew Gwen was a good friend to him and Arthur both, as well as a nice girl, but in that moment, seeing her touching him and staring at him like that…he couldn't stand it.

"Oh…I'm so sorry Merlin, I didn't know you felt like that. You were asleep and he was burning up and I just thought…I'll go find Morgana…" Gwen fled from the room, terrified of this new protective side of Merlin and babbling to cover her fear.

As the door shut, Merlin sighed, relieved, as he could see Arthur wasn't in a worse condition. With the flick of a finger and a flash of gold, the door locked and the drapes once more closed, covering the windows from prying eyes.

Merlin did the scanning spell again, noting the tight anchorage of Arthur's glowing gold soul, and nodding with approval at the slight heal in the rift that he'd completed earlier. Cooling the blonde's brow once more, Merlin took the time to appreciate the body he was always around but rarely allowed himself to look at, lest he get caught out and rejected by a disgusted and disturbed Arthur.

Tousled, sweat dampened straw-gold hair framed his masculine face, proud nose straight and aquiline leading to plump, sinful lips, slightly parted to reveal white, pointed teeth. Broad shoulders and thick arms heavily shrouded in taut, buff muscle, a tapering, carved torso with that tantalising V line leading down into the blankets between jutting hip bones.

Breathing through his nose, Merlin tried to calm down. Who knew that even just looking could get him so worked up? Channelling his desire, Merlin funnelled magic down through Arthur, physical energy resources untouched so great was his longing for not only Arthur the hot prince, but Arthur his friend, who'd been there for him, supported him through all the magical mayhem without even knowing it. Of the three quarters of Arthur's soul not stitched up, Merlin's feelings of hope, friendship and yes, attraction, healed a further two thirds.

"Come back to me, Arthur. I need you…" he whispered, clinging to his hand with desperation as the other automatically pushed a lock of hair away from the blonde's forehead.

* * *

_xXx_

* * *

A second, a minute, an hour, and Merlin's presence returned, reinvigorating Arthur's waning hope that all would be well. Something had happened after the initial boom of Merlin-ness, a presence familiar but not nearly so comforting, one he trusted and liked, but could not consider worshipping as he did Merlin. Behind his back, of course. Should he ever find out, that'd be mortifying…

Strands of a song floated through his dream-like state, a verse here, a verse there, jilted out of order as time flexed and fluxed within his spirit. But then, he was there. Don't ask how he knew, but he, Arthur Pendragon, just knew. And what he discovered from this knowledge was shocking.

He'd just started to give up when the thread, the strand of who and what and why Merlin was and is made itself known, rejoicing as it twirled around his spirit form before healing the rift in his chest.

Bound ever closer to his physical body, Arthur could…sense things. Like magic things. Which was interesting. But it was good magic, amazing, incredible, even, not the evil and manipulative voodoo his father had taught him was at the core of all mythical, magical and non-_natural_ thing. It shocked him, not only that it was obvious that Merlin, _his_ Merlin, was a sorcerer, but that the memories it triggered revealed just how much this astonishing pure magic had played a role in his life, in _saving_ his life, through such a seemingly ordinary boy.

And then there were the emotions intrinsically attached to the writhing strand of joy. Lust, directed at his body, played a role in the healing magic, but was out shadowed by the love Merlin held for him, the love of a friend so loyal he would freely donate his heart's essence without a thought for himself, as the boy was clearly doing now. It was out shadowed by the reverent love Merlin held for Arthur, one so tender and giving that it allowed him to recognise the reciprocated love he felt in return. The uniting of this strip of Merlin's soul, baring all he was, merged with Arthur, spirit's entwining to become one and soulmates in truth.

"_Come back to me, Arthur, I need you…"_

Revelling, ecstatic in his discovery of reciprocated love on such a deep, if somewhat unconventional, level, Arthur found the strength to stitch tight the remainder of his semi-decapitated soul, eager to get back to his oblivious servant and…and what? Loyal he may be, and loving he is, Merlin was suffering, and all because of him. Arthur found himself doubting his ability to heal the figurative rift in Merlin's soul as Merlin was doing to his. _What if it's a mistake…_

No. There is truth in spirit. Where one soul speaks to another, and they meet and merge as only true soulmates can, insecurities mean nothing when connections are made on every point of contact. And, with that final surge of determination, Arthur bound up his spirit and his connection to his body, returning in one great, shuddering breath, and opened his eyes.

* * *

_xXx_

* * *

Merlin had been watching in wonder as the gold glow encasing Arthur's sleeping body flared brilliantly, radiating and pulsing light and heat as, impossibly, the red wound in Arthur's spirit seemingly healed itself.

Half shell-shocked, Merlin didn't hear Arthur's gasping breath, or feel the thrumming, accelerated pulse beneath his fingertips. Eyes flashing gold, the young sorcerer was far too preoccupied trying to figure out if he was mistaken, trying to see if the potent herb was still trying to eat at his prince's essence or had finally completed its goal. He panicked, whimpering and choking down sobs as "no, no it can't be" was repeated like a mantra. It took warm, strong fingers lacing through his own pale ones, and a hand cupped against his cheek, thumb tracing the sweeping path of an angular cheekbone to shake Merlin out of his trance.

Daring a glance at Arthur's face, seeing it glowing with its own natural joy and happiness, Merlin promptly burst into tears.

* * *

_xXx_

* * *

Arthur was at a loss. He'd woken up to see Merlin jump in his seat like he'd been electrocuted, and such a tangible look of despair had crossed the raven's face that it had nearly broken Arthur's heart again. What was wrong?

"No, no, no oh gods it can't be please no…"

The pitiful hiccups and catches in Merlin's voice startled Arthur into action, seeking to soothe his friend's pain and tell him it was okay. More than okay.

Arthur slid his fingers through the ones gripping his hand in a death throttle, gently easing the tense digits apart and squeezing comfortingly. Reaching up to Merlin's despairing yet angelic face, Arthur couldn't resist sliding a hand across the boy's cheek, tracing a path back and forth over the apple of his cheek. He smiled softly up at his saviour, his soulmate, and started in confusion when those beautiful eyes filled up and overflowed with tears.

Within seconds, Merlin was a sobbing, wet and snotty mess on his exposed chest, Arthur's being alive apparently too much for the overemotional raven who had been convinced he'd seen his best friend's soul eclipse and pass on.

"Shhh, it's okay, I'm here…" Arthur softly murmured reassurances into Merlin's ear, stroking his soft black hair soothingly. A second, a minute, an hour passed, time meaning nothing as he held the weeping magician flush against his chest.

Soon enough, Merlin felt composed enough to come out of the burrow he'd made of the crook of Arthur's neck. Arthur chuckled slightly as he saw how mussed up Merlin's hair was, chest rumbling with the delicious sound of life, happiness completed by the watery smile he was given in response.

"I thought you died…" Merlin whispered, eyes wide and terrified this was just a dream.

"I nearly did…but decided that if I died, you'd have no one to boss you around, and that just wouldn't do, now would it." Arthur smirked. "By the way, Merlin…did you get your chores done?"

Merlin made an indignant squawk. "Ughh, why do I bother bringing you back? You're such an ass!" he shouted, before clapping a hand over his mouth in horror. "Uhh…I mean, you know, giving you the draughts and stuff Gaius prescribes, and–"

"Merlin, I _know_. How could I not? I felt you sew my soul back together, felt the blessing of your magic, so unlike anything I've ever though magic could be. You're pure, and golden, and just so you…" Arthur petered out, trying to gain the courage in his still somewhat groggy state to go through with what he wanted to say. "Merlin…I _felt_ you, your soul, and how you feel about me." He ignored the mortified squeak that elicited. "My only regret is that you didn't get to experience what that was like, the true merging of our souls. I have a part of you inside me, and always will, and…and Merlin, I honestly love you."

There. He'd said it. No going back now.

* * *

_xXx_

* * *

A/N: I don't think I'm very good at the whole 'sad' thing, nor the restraint when I love seeing two characters together and being happy sappy so much.

Lemon in the next chapter, if I can be bothered to write one. Will only be a twoshot (oneshot if my laziness wins). Read and review. Ciao! \\(*o*)/


End file.
